A Britta Tryptich
by aikakone
Summary: Three short stories of relationships that Britta might have had-but didn't-during the summer between seasons 1 and 2. With episodes of spin the bottle, tap dancing and movie watching. Britta/Annie, Britta/Troy, Britta/Abed
1. Spin the Bottle

**A/N**: Inspired by the end of season 1. I had wanted to have these all done before season 2 started, but that didn't happen. Please enjoy anyway.

* * *

**I. Spin the Bottle** (_Annie_)

It's all Pierce's fault. At least that's what she tells herself. It's his fault for making those lesbian jokes about her. It's his fault for having the summer bash at his mansion after Troy moved in, and it's still Pierce's fault that he dared her to play spin the bottle.

She can't resist accepting a challenge once it's been given. That's her Achilles heel.

So Britta Perry, Tranny Queen, sat in a circle of various people playing spin the bottle in Pierce's pool house. The rest of the study group was there except for Shirley who was visiting her mother while her boys visited their dad.

When it's her turn to spin the bottle, Pierce chortles at her that she should really aim the bottle at that hot redhead sitting by Jeff. It irks Britta enough that she snaps, "Maybe I should!"

When it gets done spinning, though, the bottle is pointing at Annie. Annie… the one she goes with to the mall on weekends. Annie, the one who kissed her ex-boyfriend and stayed with him longer than she ever did. It's Annie, and Britta can't do it. Except that Pierce is egging her on, and she is ready for a fight.

So she looks at Annie, and lifts her eyebrows up for the unspoken question. The other woman's mouth gapes, but she nods imperceptibly. Young Annie's breath catches in her throat as she sees Britta slinking on hands and knees getting closer to her.

And then Britta is there, leaning on one hand while holding Annie's face with the other. She tilts her head to the side as she presses her lips to Annie's. She does it slowly, enjoying the soft press of their lips together. It's not a scandalous kiss by any means until Annie opens her mouth a little. Being a woman who loves to kiss, Britta takes the chance to deepen the kiss as if it were a natural thing.

The very comfort she feels kissing Annie in this absurd situation surprises her. It's that realization that makes her break the kiss. She retreats back to her spot in the circle, leveling a glare at Pierce because either he didn't think she'd do it. Or he _did_ think she'd do it. Either way, he's Pierce, and he deserves to be glared at.

They all tease her, and she's got smart remarks a-plenty. She sounds much more intelligent than when she and Jeff were having a duh-off with the annoying teenagers. This time she no doubt mentions something about misogyny and gender roles. Her friends tune her out, but Annie remembers.

* * *

Annie hasn't kissed very many people, she says to Britta one day a few weeks after that when they'd returned to their mall visiting schedule. She says coyly that she's kissed Vaughan and Jeff. To that, she rushes to say that it was at the debate, of course. Annie chooses not to mention the kissing they'd done after the Tranny Dance.

Then Annie looks at her with those large doe eyes, and Britta isn't sure what the younger woman is getting at.

"Did I embarrass you?" she finally asks, referring to the night at Pierce's party.

Annie fidgets, her hands finding no rest in the pockets of her jean skirt. "No, that's not it. It's just… I want you to kiss me again."

Her cheeks are flaming, and Britta can tell she's serious.

"Now?" Britta asks, looking at the stalls of the mall bathroom around them.

"Well, at least you didn't say no," Annie laughs off.

Britta gets a look of resolve on her face that has been seen before when she's about to do something stupid and potentially life-changing. Annie gulps and feels her heart racing as her friend stalks near her, getting in her personal space. She almost feels like she's about to suffocate as Britta pushes her back against the bathroom door.

Putting her knee between Annie's skirted legs, Britta keeps her hands on the younger woman's shoulders. Then she leans in and makes it obvious that she's smelling her. Annie's mouth smiles in soft amusement as she realizes Britta is being very cat-like in the smelling and deliberate pressing of her body against her own.

Finally, arching up into her face, Britta kisses her full on the mouth. This isn't a chaste kiss or anything like the quick one they had over spin the bottle. No, this one is a melt your stockings kind of kiss, and Annie is so glad she has the door behind her to hold her up. Otherwise, her knees might buckle, and she'd fall.

Britta knows she's done well when Annie whimpers into her mouth. She can't help but pulling back and smirking at her in triumph.

Before either woman can speak, someone pushes against the door, and Annie gets jostled aside. She apologizes profusely to the woman trying to enter and then dashes out the door. Britta follows, listening to Annie babbling on about inconsequential things. She reapplies her lip balm as she listens to her.

As Britta slips the thin tube back into her bag, her eyes distracted with the task, she feels a tentative hand slipping into her own. Annie looks back at her, smiling shyly. Britta keeps her hand clasped around Annie's as they walk down the hallway, a smile of satisfaction lighting her face.


	2. Tapping the Light Fantastic

II. **Tapping the Light Fantastic** (Troy)

Britta kept her dancing under wraps after the recital fiasco. Well, that's about as true as could be when she went to the Valentine's dance and did the electric slide with Troy. She also went to the Tranny Dance, but there was no dancing involved then. She still wanted to know who nominated her. That would perhaps always be a mystery. Maybe it was one of those jealous girls who wanted to torture her just like they did in high school.

The lure of the dance still held sway over her, and that's why Britta Perry found herself in downtown Denver one summer afternoon at a local athletic shop. She was finding better tap shoes, but she was also looking into other dance wear. Rounding the racks of clothing, she found Troy Barnes standing and talking with one of the sales people.

Troy was standing with the erect dancer's posture, trying to tell the man why this particular set of break-away pants just would not do.

Watching him be so deadly serious, Britta couldn't help herself. She laughed. The sound broke his concentration, and he turned to look at her.

"Britta" he said, his voice rising guiltily. "I'm just here to see Savion Glover later."

Troy said it like he was being macho and authoritative. She did not know for sure if he was telling the truth, but she decided to go with it.

"Savion Glover? Is he a related to your cousin Donald?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

He smiled his disarming smile. "Nah. People get them confused all the time. Donald gets mistaken for Danny Glover all the time, too, and they're nothing alike. Just because they're black. Can you believe that?"

"Well, he was good in those _Lethal Weapon _movies, but he's probably getting too old for this," she said before putting her hand to her head like she had a headache. "Whoah. Is this what Abed feels like when he's making a movie reference?"

Troy smiled at her with no good answer. Besides, even if she was talking about _Lethal Weapon_, nothing would beat the awesomeness that is the _Kickpuncher_ movies. Awesomely bad!

"So is Savion Glover really in town, or are you just trying to save face?" she asked. Then before he could be offended, she rushed on to say, "If he is, I'd really like to see him. He's one of the best tappers around.

Troy sighed, "Yes, he is, but I wasn't going to see him. I came up with my dad, and he wants to turn around and get home to his girlfriend."

"That's okay, Troy. I can drive you back!" she said, excited to share this dancing event with him.

"Okay," he enthused. "Let me just have him buy these break-aways. They're his latest guilt present. Then I'll go with you."

"Awesome," Britta said, feeling quite pleased for the first time in a long time.

* * *

When they'd wrapped up at the athletic store, the pair went driving the streets of Denver in hopes to find the venue where Savion was dancing. He had come for a fund-raising event for a children's charity. He wanted to show them the way of dance instead of being on the streets.

"How are we going to get in?" Troy worried.

She looked at the venue and back at him. As she twisted her hair up on her head, she said, "We'll have to sneak in. Have you ever served anything before?"

"Sure, at my grandmother's..." he said before realizing that she wanted him to act like a waiter. "Hey, that's racist!"

"Not if I'm doing it, too," she said, widening her eyes at him. "You don't really think I'm racist, do you?"

He looked unsurely at her. "I've already had this conversation with Jeff."

"About if I'm racist?" she asked, intrigued.

"No, about if I'm racist," he said, frowning and scrunching his nose.

"Well, conversation's over. Do you want to get in there, or not?" she asked, looking pleased with her quick hair conversion.

"Let's do it!" he said, so easily coaxed into a new adventure.

* * *

They snuck in the service entrance, and lifted platters of drinks. Luckily, one of the organizers was giving directions for who to pass which items where and how to give refills. They walked confidently into the ballroom looking as if they had a right to be there, and each acted the role of waiter or waitress until a few minutes later, Britta tapped Troy on the shoulder.

"Put that down," she said. "He's on next."

Troy put down the drink platter he had been carrying and managed to avoid any other real employees while he made it back to the wings with her.

Britta was practically shaking with excitement as Savion took the stage. He was a complete master of his craft, and both she and Troy couldn't help themselves from trying to emulate his moves from the side. If she thought of it later, she might have compared it to a musician singing along with the radio.

But this was real, and she was there watching him. Her heart just swelled with happiness to be able to see him and share it with Troy. At one point in Savion's routine, she was so impressed, that she couldn't help but squeal and reach out to take Troy's hand.

He looked at her, his eyebrows sky high and said, "I know!" His smile was huge, and he never let her hand go.

Being that it was a fundraiser for a children's charity, he stopped at one point to do some basic lessons and talk about the place dance has in a life. "Normally, I would take a volunteer from the audience, but as a few of you are still enjoying your drinks, I have a couple waiting in the wings."

Then he pointed to Britta and Troy standing side by side. The happy hand-holding that they had been doing at seeing their hero dance changed to the hand-holding of complete fear.

"Did he just say..." Britta began.

"He wants us to dance with him," Troy concluded.

Britta then said a very unladylike word before plastering her big Tranny Queen smile back on her face.

Savion said something else to the audience before turning to the couple briefly.

"I can't believe you saw us," Britta managed to say in a whisper.

"I did, and don't screw up," he said. Louder to the audience, he said, "Watch closely and do everything I do."

From there, he modeled the dance he wanted the pair to follow, and they managed to do it quite well. They had a few mishaps, but Troy tried to turn things in a humorous direction when he did it. Britta made prissy, mocking faces as her way of joking whenever he did it so that the others could be in on the laugh.

At the end of the segment, Glover had them bow and they walked off stage into the wings. They were so giggly they stayed behind, this time trying to keep their dancing impulses under control.

When he was done, Glover bowed and looked like he was going to walk off stage on the opposite side from where Troy and Britta were still hiding, but it seemed at last minute he decided to come over to them.

"That was so awesome. Thank you!" Britta said, shaking his hand. She'd only ever felt Radiohead was as cool as Savion Glover in that moment.

"You're so dope," Troy said.

Glover spoke to them a short while, but before he was about to go away to mingle with the rest of the guests, Troy had one more thought. "Hey, man, would you sign my tap shoes?"

"Do you have them with you?" Savion asked politely.

"All our dance things are in my car," Britta said, already in motion.

She returned a few minutes later, having moved faster than a wide receiver in a football game. She had both her and Troy's purchases from the athletic supply shop.

"Troy, you didn't buy dance shoes," she said, looking up from their bags.

"No, but you did," he said, taking the tap shoes and handing them to Glover as Britta handed the master dancer a permanent marker.

Her smile broke out wide at Troy's kindness and thinking of her, so that she started hopping up and down excitedly at the prospect that Savion Glover would personally autograph her new tap shoes. Without thinking too much about it, she gave her friend a big, happy kiss on the mouth.

"Thank you, Troy!" she said breathlessly

"Wow," he said, sounding out of breath himself.

By that time, Glover was done signing her shoes, and he handed them back to Britta with the comment that they made a cute couple.

"Oh, we're not..." she said, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Could have fooled me," he said, giving them a nod before walking away.

"Wow," she said quietly, turning back to him. "What do you think about that?"

"He's clearly crazy," Troy said with an unsure laugh. Then he looked at her like he was considering it.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence passed, Britta said, "So, are you ready to go home?"

"Yeah, let's hit it," Troy replied.

As they walked out the door and into the Colorado night, he had his hand gently at the small of her back as if they were still dancing across a stage.


	3. Celluloid Folly

III. **Celluloid Folly **(Abed)

As Britta walked into the familiar darkness, she thought of the fact that she usually sat at the back of the theater. It was easier that way. When she was a smoker and really needing a puff during a long film, it would be easy to dash out to take a few drags and be back in place without missing much of the movie. It was also something of a comfort for her because she could see the audience, and her back was against the wall. She wasn't exposed. She was safe.

But she wasn't here by herself this time. He'd treated her to the movie festival, and she didn't ask him where he'd gotten his money. After the money debacle at the beginning of last fall semester, she thought better of it. Instead, she had offered to pay for the concession since that was the thing that most appealed to her feminist leanings.

As she walked to the middle row of the theater, looking for the tall man sitting in the middle seat, she looked around. The theater wasn't very full. There were kids, creepy types, a new couple making out a few rows back. Sure, it was cheaper than a room, but not by much.

"Extra butter, just for you," she said as she handed Abed his popcorn.

He turned to her, his eyes glowing with pleasure. For a moment, Britta's breath caught in her throat. She'd been so physical, so comfortable with him. But that look… well, there was some woman out there who was missing out because if Abed looked at a woman like that and meant it, she would be done for.

Britta blinked, realizing it was his celluloid joy shining through. She tamped down her wild imagination as she sat down beside him.

"The acoustics really are better here," he said, explaining his seating choice. He could have told her all about it if he thought she would have been interested.

She looked at him dubiously.

They'd gone to a horror movie fest because he said he wanted to share some of the classics with her. When Britta had asked him why he hadn't invited his BFF Troy, Abed replied that horror movies gave him nightmares. So she consented to go, but she wasn't convinced yet how much she would be enjoying everything.

Before she could make some disparaging remark, the house lights went down completely, and the horror films began. He occasionally liked to whisper things in her ear, technical points about what was happening. His breath would tickle the hair near her ear. As they got further into the movie, though, he became more interested and spoke less. His body was still semi-turned to her because of all the whispering he had done at the beginning.

It's not that Britta was scared of the frights in the movie, but Abed's seating choice was _really_ effective. It was like she heard the monster or serial killer right behind her. During one of the moments, she reached out and squeezed his thigh for dear life.

She laughed self-deprecatingly as he calmly wrapped her hand in both of his. She glanced to him quickly, but his eyes were on the screen, not her hand. So she took her attention back to the screen. Her attention stayed with him enough to note that he held her hand for the rest of the movie.

When the lights went up for intermission, Britta blinked her long lashes and saw Abed's caramel eyes staring back at her. It was during times like this that he was so unreadable.

"I thought you'd really like horror. It actually has many feminist touches," he said.

"Yeah, how so? All I see are lots of naked women having sex with strangers and getting killed for it," she said.

"True," he agreed, "but it's usually the woman who defeats the villain and without a man's help."

She was quiet for a while as she contemplated the truth of what he said. When she could not find a hole in his argument, she nodded in acceptance.

She returned her attention to the rest of the movies at the horror fest, and she found with his help that she started to enjoy them more. He kept leaning into her as he explained some more of the things about movie crafting. She had seen him making movies, had been in at least one of them. He had also invited her to be a part of one of his films over summer, but he never had made good on the promise. She took a mental note to ask him about it later when they had more time to talk.

When all was said and done, they had spent more than eight hours in the theater. Britta was stiff as she got up from the chair.

"What do you want to do now?" Abed asked her.

She stifled a yawn. "I need to go for a walk."

"Do you want to go down to the city park in the center of town?" he suggested.

She wrinkled up her nose. "I think that's where the druggies hang out at night time. Why don't we go get a coffee. I need to perk up."

"I know a new place that uses free trade products," he said.

Britta's eyes light up as she turned to him. "You know about that? I thought I was the only one who cared about free trade."

"I know it's important to you," Abed said.

She smiled and held her arm out to him as she had done so many times when walking from class to class at Greendale. He took it with a grin and the pair went off to the coffee shop.

* * *

"Britta, do you ever miss smoking?" he asked once they were seated at a high table.

The shop they were in was rather empty of people. He spoke in low tones so as not to make the sound echo around the room.

"I miss some things," she finally answered. "I don't miss the smoke itself, just the habitual action of doing something. That's why I took up knitting. I had to keep my hands busy."

"Oh, that explains it," he said. "You're so much better at doing it now than you were when you gave me this… I don't know what it is."

Abed pulled a square out of his jacket pocket. The object seemed to be a pocket of itself as if she had knitted a pita bread.

"It's for your camera lenses," Britta said. "I know you don't want to scratch them."

He looked up from her knitted square and studied her. "That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. I need to thank you."

"Well, if you could save me from the embarrassment after telling Jeff Winger I loved him, that would be a great place to start. But it's also impossible," she sighed.

"I'm not here to talk about Jeff. I'm here with you," he said.

She laughed uncomfortably. "Why are you looking at me like a beige preying mantis? Troy really was right about that."

"I know you, Britta. You're complicated, and you're one of the most fascinating people I've ever met," he said.

"Okay, well now you're just embarrassing me," she protested.

"Am I? I don't mean to be. Sorry I said it," Abed replied and looked off into the distance.

"Look," she said after a pause. "Most people aren't so nice. They always want something. It's hard to let down my guard."

He looked at her again, his head tilting to the side as he considered her. "I don't want anything you can't give. You'll approach me if you ever want anything."

She protested. "What? Like some of your strange girls with daddy issues who approach you first because you're out of reach? I resent that remark, Abed!"

"I'm not out of reach, Britta. I'm sitting here with you, and we're having coffee," he said. Then he waved the waitress over to fill his cup.

Britta sipped her coffee in silence, enjoying the flavor of a good conscience. While she was not truly sure the free trade goods actually tasted different, they were so easy for her to like.

"Abed," she began unsurely after a while, "do you actually like me?"

"Of course, I do," he said too quickly for her.

She winced. "No, I mean, do you _like_ me?"

"The way you like Jeff Winger?" he asked without answering.

Britta put her hand to her temple. She felt too embarrassed to speak. Abed reached out and took her fingertips in his and stroked them a while.

"I like you, Britta," he said.

"I like you, too," she replied.

"Then I think that's a good place to start," Abed said with a pleased smile


End file.
